Mr. Fairchild's Rose: She is Wild and Proud-Chapter 78: The Pose of Absolute Possession
Julian Fairchild lifted the left side of the blanket and lay down.
The distance between them was large enough to fit two more people.
Maeve Lane wasn’t sleepy at first, but as her eyes stayed open, a wave of drowsiness washed over her, and her consciousness gradually blurred.
Julian Fairchild heard her steady and even breathing, and turned slightly, his handsome but wicked eyes carried a heavy emotion in the deep night.
Seeing Maeve Lane was already asleep, he completely turned his body over.
The woman’s graceful sleeping face was fully presented before him. Compared to the indifference of the daytime, Maeve Lane now resembled a curled-up white cat, her eyelashes curled and long, her skin fair and dewy, perhaps because she had just bathed; her pert nose was somewhat red, evoking a sense of vulnerability.
Maeve Lane belonged to the category of striking features, and even without makeup, her facial features were still bright and generous, her upturned eyes brazen and wanton. If she wished, she could absolutely exude endless charm, not to mention her increasingly exquisite figure.
Yet the coolness in her eyes gave her an air of aloofness and detachment.
Indeed, this indifference greatly overshadowed her stunning appearance, consistently making it the first thing people felt.
Julian Fairchild gently touched Maeve Lane’s face with his finger. Unlike her exterior, her face was soft and smooth, like milk jelly.
With a single poke, a small dimple formed on her face, appearing somewhat cute and dazed.
This version of Maeve Lane was one that would never appear during the day—innocent and fragile, stirring a sense of pity in others.
Julian Fairchild played this game tirelessly, his dark eyes filled with deep affection and melancholy, whispering, "If only you were always this obedient..."
Before he could finish, he chuckled to himself. 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺
If so, she wouldn’t be Maeve Lane.
After gazing at Maeve Lane for a long time, Julian Fairchild finally reached out and pulled her into his arms.
His large hand rested on the back of her head.
Though she was five foot seven, Maeve Lane’s frame was petite, and her waist was soft and slender, allowing him to envelop her entirely in his embrace.
His other hand pressed against her waist, making them even closer.
This was an undeniably possessive posture.
...
Maeve Lane slept deeply, as if trying to make up for the nights she hadn’t slept well.
She felt as if she had a very warm dream.
In the dream, Julian Fairchild was inexplicably gentle, sometimes coaxing her to sleep, sometimes rubbing her stomach. The warmth of his palms, like a fire, urged her to draw a little closer.
A little closer.
Maeve Lane slowly opened her eyes, the sunlight filtering through the curtains, casting a white band of light on the bed. She squinted slightly, and there was no one beside her.
But the bed was still warm.
Clearly, he hadn’t left long ago.
She lay there with her eyes open for a moment, then sat up.
At that moment, Mrs. Thompson knocked on the door, "Young madam, it’s time for breakfast."
"Mm."
The clock on the wall already pointed to nine in the morning.
She seldom had such peaceful moments with Julian Fairchild.
And for a moment, she was unaccustomed to it.
Mrs. Thompson called for Maeve Lane, then went downstairs.
Maeve Lane got up, washed up, and went downstairs in her pajamas and cotton slippers.
The slippers were prepared by Mrs. Thompson, cute and soft rabbit slippers. Paired with Maeve Lane’s expressionless and even slightly cold face, they presented a striking contrast of cuteness.
"Young madam, you’re here!" Mrs. Thompson cheerfully pulled out a seat next to the handsome man.
"Have a seat."
Maeve Lane raised an eyebrow and glanced over, thinking she might not be fully awake. After blinking, she confirmed that the person sitting there was indeed Julian Fairchild.
